


Come Home to Me

by ajeepandleather



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe, Bed & Breakfast, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, First Kiss, Fluff, Grumpy Derek, M/M, Prompt Fill, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-31 07:43:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12677457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajeepandleather/pseuds/ajeepandleather
Summary: For@fideenwho wanted -Stiles works at a hotel and Derek is a very grumpy guest. I would love to see Stiles trying to do things to make Derek a happy guest but they just don't go as planned. Thank you.I am all too happy to write some nice fluff cause Derek Haledeserves nice things.





	Come Home to Me

**Author's Note:**

> If you're coming from Tumblr and are a regular to my fics, you may notice that my username has changed. Well, yes! It has! I've decided that I want my username to be consistent across all my fandom platforms so Ao3 was the last thing to switch. Follow me on Twitter(@ajeepandleather) for writing updates and early notice when I release something new :)

“Hi, welcome to Stilinski Bed and Breakfast,” A chirpy young man with bright eyes and a welcoming smile greet Derek as a cheery little bell rings over his head. It makes his head hurt, assaulting his sensitive ears.

He takes a quick whiff of the room and finds nothing but the comforting scent of baking and hot cocoa and the subtlest layer of a woman’s perfume mixed witht he fresh cinnamon scent of what can only be the boy behind the counter. Derek glares at the boy, looking at his name tag - Stiles, what the hell is a Stiles? - and grunts and he drags himself further inside.

“Oh, you got caught in the storm, didn’t you?” Derek’s glare intensifies because why else would he be sopping wet and disheveled if not for the freak storm that he managed to get stuck in on his way home. He had been driving from LA to visit his parents and the rest of the pack for a few days of vacation pay after a particularly grueling case back at the precinct.

“I need a room,” he says, gruff and no-nonsense because he really just wants to fall over and hope naively that the storm passes by morning.

“Yeah, of course, dude.” The boy -Stiles, his brain reminds him - starts tapping something out on the computer while Derek rolls his eyes. What kind of customer service calls their patrons dude? “We’ve got a room open on the third floor, one bed and hasn’t been used in a few weeks.” Stiles looks up with a mindful look.

“Uh, yeah, that sounds good.” Derek nods and just hopes this finishes soon. The boy nods, his scent flushing with a pleased rush of pleased lavender and pine. A strange mix but it’s easy on Derek’s nose and somehow unaffected by the muting that tends to happen in rainstorms. He hands over his credit card and fills out some papers while Stiles apologizes about tradition and old filing systems he hasn’t updated.

“Cool, follow me.” Stiles walks around the counter and stops in his tracks turning on his heel quickly, with eyes wide, “Wait do you have bags to- no, you don’t and I just reminded you that you have nothing to change into. Wow, way to go, Stiles.” The kid is muttering to himself by the end and Derek might have found it oddly charming but he’s to agitated to be anything but annoyed.

“I’d like to go to my room now,” Derek huffs. The kid’s head snaps up form where he had been glaring at his shoes and flushes as he shakes himself out of it.

“Oh, yeah! Of course, uh, right this way. Sorry.”

They walk up a set of stairs and down a hallway, the walls decorated with picture frames filled with smiling faces from spots Derek recognizes from around Beacon Hills. Some of them more noticeably aged than others. Each frame unique and homey in its own way.

Stiles stops in front of a door and unlocks it, deftly removing the key from the ring and handing it to Derek as he opened the door further to allow him in. He takes a searching breath and finds a surprising lack of scents. There’s the scent of laundry detergent that doesn’t choke him and tea? Derek internally shrugs and walks inside. The bed looks wonderfully soft and all Derek wants to do is collapse.

“Hopefully everything is comfortable for you. Breakfast is at nine if you don’t dash out too early. I make a mean omelet. Have a good night.” And with that Stiles is gone. Derek lets himself sit down on the bed and winces when he remembers how wet his jeans still are and stands back up. There's a bathroom to his left and when he goes to investigate he finds a decent sized shower and the softest towels to ever exist. It doesn't take long to strip out of his wet clothes and place them on the radiator and hope they dry soon. He hops in and basks in the warm water. Werewolves may run hotter than humans but they weren't entirely immune to the cold.

He climbs back out after indulging himself in both of the towels, one around his hips and the other over his shoulders and telling himself he'd just have to sleep in the nude tonight lest he wear damp clothes to bed. That sounds like the worst kind of torture, chaffing denim hurt, super-healing or not. But he stops in the middle of the room upon spotting a set of clothes on the bed, folded neatly and the room still carrying the faint scent of cinnamon. He steps forward and picks up a sticky note attached to a t-shirt.

Derek,

I hope this isn't too invasive of me, I'm kinda known for not understanding personal boundaries and I really shouldn't ramble when I only have a sticky-note to write on so we're moving on. I felt really bad about you not having any dry clothes so these are some of my dad's and I promise he won't mind. I hope you sleep better wearing something comfy. (there's a small section scratched out that looks a lot like something about commando that makes Derek blush) Sorry if coming in unannounced was creepy, I knockedd but heard the shower going and we keep the doors oiled for sensitive ears. Hope to see you for breakfast. Just leave the clothes in the room. Speaking of room I am running out of it.

The note is signed by Stiles and he feels some of the tension of the day bleed away. The clothes do look comfy, a BHPD t-shirt and some well loved sweat pants. Derek shrugs them on and inhales soft notes of a man's cologne and pine trees that must be from the man's unique scent. He collapses on the bed, out like a light.

***

"Derek! You stayed, I- I mean, good morning." Stiles smiles broadly like Derek having slept in far longer than he intended was the highlight of his day.

"Morning," He nodded to Stiles and sat down at one of the chairs around the large dining room table, ready to seat at least fifteen. There was an elderly couple across from him that smiled and greeted him and he would be the actual worst if he didn't smile back.

"Looks like you cracked his grumpy shell, Mrs. Reinhardt," Stiles notes happily as he lays out a plate of bacon and a bowl of seasonal fruit.

"It's a woman's touch, dear," the woman, Mrs. Reinhardt giggles, "It landed me, Jim here." The man shrugs with a smile as if to say, 'what can you do?'. Derek huffs and rolls his eyes. "Well, that's not to say a man's touch wouldn't work as well, but personal preference is everything." Derek nearly chokes on the orange juice placed before him and Stiles cackles behind him.

"All very true," Stiles agrees. He's already made omelets for the Reinhardts across from before putting a plate in front of him. There's a smiley face in it made from red bell peppers and it makes Derek's chest swell a bit with how much it reminds him of his mother making Mickey Mouse with pancake batter.

"Thank you," Derek turns to make eye contact with Stiles who looks a little shocked but nods and turns away quickly, but not before Derek catches the blush on his cheeks. He continues to watch as Stiles cooks a bit more and cleans when he's finished.

"He has a lovely rump, doesn't he, dear?" Mrs. Reinhardt comments in a whisper that makes Derek whip back around, wide eyed and blushing in shame. Less because he was looking and more because he got caught. He did have a nice ass, round and bounced just the right amount while he worked. He pressed his lips together to keep from blurting his commentary while Mrs. Reinhardt, the menace, just laughs at him.

Breakfast is a lively affair considering half the guests are over the age of seventy. Stiles chats with the patrons as they come and go and Derek would never admit it but he eats a little slower to listen just a little longer. Stiles even makes him another grinning omelet with a wink when he slows even more the closer he gets to done. Derek gets the impression that these people are regulars, the kind of people with time to kill and money from retirement funds that need spending and enjoy the outing and Stiles obviously loves them all, commenting on families and recent grand- and great granbaby births and marriages. Despite Derek's size and stature there is no way to explain four omelets and he stands before Stiles tries to make another.

"Uh, thank you, for everything." Derek stops Stiles in the kitchen, between cooking another round for new arrivals and cleaning from the last.

"Oh, yeah, of course. It was nice having a new face to look at." Stiles 'eeps' and bit and blushes again, "Not that there's anything wrong with elderly people, they're great! And not like you're a special case or something although you have a nice face, but not like in a creepy way! You're just pretty, well not just pretty, I'm sure you're smart and talented too, not like it's fair to us mere-average people. And that's not to say I'm not talented! Did you see those smiley faces? Of course you saw them, you're not blind I'm not blind because I see that you're very pretty and I should really stop because I'm not even ahead at this point." Stiles literally claps a hand over his mouth and looks pleadingly up at the ceiling like he's asking for lightning to strike him down. His heart beat is all over the place and Derek might worry about a heart attack in twenty year olds but he's too busy smiling goofily at the boy in front of him.

"It was nice to meet you, too, Stiles." The boy sighs in relief and drops his hand after raking it through his hair. "I'll have to come back on my way back out of town."

"You're only visiting?" Stiles asks, corners of his mouth drooping in disappointment.

"Yeah, just visiting my family. I'm from LA." Derek says regretfully, unsure why he's so concerned about Stiles' happiness. "But I've been debating a transfer," Derek adds in a rush. Wow, that was . . . so uncalled for. He hadn't even mentioned that to his family. He had been contemplating returning back to his hometown for a few months now, but he hadn't actually admitted it out loud to anyone. Well, anyone but Stiles.

"Oh, well, don't get my hopes up," Stiles says, eyes on the floor where his Converse clad foot is mashing into the plush carpet.

"What would you be hoping for?" Derek asks, emboldened by the warming in Stiles' scent. It was like the hot chocolate Mom made, with cinnamon dashed across the top and summer rain, warm and refreshing.

"I'm under no delusions you can't smell exactly what I'm hoping for," Stiles mutters, too softly for a human to hear. Derek breathes in sharply but realizes how smart of a move it was. If Derek was human, he wouldn't hear the comment that wouldn't make sense to him. But because he's a werewolf, he can hear and knows exactly what Stiles means.

"I'll be coming back through in four days," Derek leans down and kisses the top of Stiles cheekbone and relishing the stutter in his heartbeat before it picks up in double, "How about I take you for coffee at the little shop down the road?"

Stiles looks and nods, biting his lip, turning the red skin white momentarily. "Yeah, sounds good." Derek smiles and darts in to kiss his other cheek but Stiles must have the same idea and instead their lips connect briefly but enough that Derek's heart jumps in a mime of Stiles'.

"See you, Saturday." Derek pulls away from how closely they had been huddled together and backs away reluctantly. He reminds himself that he'll be back soon enough, but that's hard to say when Stiles is so close and warm and smelling nice just a few feet away. Derek turns and walks out to his car, happy to breath in the fresh, after rain smell as he walks away.

"You're the handsome LA cop Mrs. Hale has been trying to set me up with!!" Derek doubles over with laughter at hearing that from inside the bed and breakfast, ears only reddening a little bit at his mother talking about him to unsuspecting citizens of Beacon Hills. At least he already has his alpha's stamp of approval, maybe this has a real chance of being something amazing.


End file.
